Night Flowering
by SapphireDreaming
Summary: What if Peeta died in the arena? What would have happened to Katniss? And the Quarter Quell... Would anything have been the same? This is Prim's story of life after the 74th Hunger Games. T for violence, mild language and character death. Awful summary, story is better. DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but the storyline, Suzanne Collins owns characters and The Hunger Games.
1. Prologue

Claudius Templesmith's voice boomed out across the arena.

"Stop!"

Katniss Everdeen spat the nightlock berry in her mouth onto the ground, and fell to her knees at the lakeside, rinsing her mouth of all traces of the deadly fruit with the crystal clear water. She knew that everyone across Panem was probably glued to their screens, watching her, and she was vaguely aware of the voice of the Hunger Games announcer saying something else, but she didn't listen.

It was over. Or so she thought.

She looked to her left, expecting to see her district partner and ally, Peeta Mellark, beside her doing the same. But instead, he lay on the ground a few feet away from the lakeside.

"Peeta!" Katniss gasped, moving to his side. He was shaking, his eyes wide in fear and pain, his lips turning slightly blue. "Peeta, no. You didn't..." She couldn't say it.

"Yeah." He struggled to get the single word out. "I'm sorry, Katniss. I... I love you."

He couldn't speak any more.

She took his trembling form in her arms, holding him close to her as what was left of his life drained away.

"Peeta..." she choked out. "Peeta, please, don't go."

He didn't reply. And then it was over.

The voice of Claudius Templesmith once again met her ears, this time sounding solemn and full of regret.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the victor of the Seventy-Fourth Annual Hunger Games. Katniss Everdeen."

A hovercraft materialised, dropping both a ladder and a metal claw to the ground. The dark-haired girl with her grey Seam eyes laid the body of the blonde boy on the grass, and gently closed his eyes before turning away and stepping onto the awaiting ladder, where the strange current froze her in place as she was lifted into the craft.

She never saw her 'star-crossed lover' again.

And the next day, Katniss Everdeen returned to District 12. Dressed in a simple black dress, with her golden pin attached to the fabric and a black ribbon tied at the end of her trademark side braid, her tear-stained face devoid of makeup, my sister stood looking out at the assembled crowd, proud and defiant and exhausted and defeated all at the same time.

Her voice cracked as she tried to speak to the people from her district. She barely managed more than a few sentences before dissolving into tears and falling to her knees, unable to appear strong any more.

And the person who pushed to the front of the crowd, climbed up to the stage in front of the Justice Building, knelt beside her and held her as she sobbed?

Gale Hawthorne.


	2. Chapter One

**Five months on, and the Katniss I knew before the Games hasn't come back yet. **

For her, each day is the same. Wake up, dress, see Gale, go into town, go to the woods, come home, eat dinner, and sleep. She goes through her life almost mechanically, there's no meaning to what she does. Until night falls, and she often breaks down in tears. Gale's arms are there to comfort her, always, but more often than not our mother has to sedate her to get her to fall asleep.

Even then, her sleep is frequented by nightmares, flashbacks of the Games. Images of dead and injured tributes tearing her sleep to shreds. Memories of the awful wolf mutts with the tributes' eyes.

And in my heart, I fear that Peeta Mellark's death has pushed her over the edge. That I will never get back my strong, protective, beautiful older sister. That life will be this circle of identical days for her, until the day she dies.

Until one day, there's a knock at the door. My mother is treating a child from the Seam in the kitchen, and Katniss is upstairs sleeping off a crying fit, Gale, devoted as ever, is by her side, watching her closely. So I suppose it's up to me to answer it.

When I open the door, Effie Trinket swoops down and embraces me, her powder blue wig tickling my face.

"Primrose." She smiles, straightening up.

"Prim, please," I correct her, trying to be polite.

"Of course, Prim." My name sounds ridiculous repeated in her affected Capitol tone, but I don't let it bother me. "I believe your mother knew we were coming. Where's Katniss?"

Of course. It suddenly hits me like a ton of bricks. The Victory Tour.

Katniss has to visit each district as the winner of the Games. To accept flowers and gifts she won't want, to see the fake smiles of the citizens of Panem who are probably wishing her dead and their own tributes returned.

"She's upstairs," I reply, trying not to show what I'm feeling right now. "I'll go and tell her you're here." As the camera and film crew manoeuvre themselves and their equipment into our front room, followed by Effie and Haymitch and assorted other people, I run up the stairs two at a time, and knock on Katniss's door.

"Come in," my sister calls softly. I enter the room to see both her and Gale sitting at the edge of the bed. His arm is around her, her eyes are red and they both look tired.

"Katniss, they're here," I tell her. "Effie, and Haymitch, and your prep team and Cinna and-"

She cuts me off, her expression suddenly one of hope. "Did you say Cinna?"

"Yes..." I say slowly. "Katniss, they've come to prep you for the Victory Tour."

Realisation dawns on her.

"I'm leaving," she says flatly. "I have to go, don't I." It's not a question. It's a statement, and not one Gale and I can argue with. "Let them come up. Gale, you go. I'll see you later." She tries to smile, but it ends up as more of a grimace.

"See you, Catnip." Gale kisses her softly before leaving. I go to follow him, but my sister reaches out and catches my arm.

I realise that this is the first time since she came home that she has willingly touched me.

She usually moves away when I try to hold her, seeking her solace in Gale's embrace. Whereas we always used to cuddle together as we slept in the cold of our home in the Seam, we have separate rooms now, and she has Gale to save her from her nightmares the way she used to hold me when I woke, sobbing, from mine.

I'm not jealous of Gale, of course not. He loves her, always has done, and any fool could see that. He deserves her. I saw his face when we watched her kissing Peeta on the screens in the square. Anyone who still loves her after that should be treasured.

"Stay with me, Prim?" Katniss asks, bringing me out of my thoughts with a snap. "I... I don't think I can face this on my own."

"Of course I will," I reply, just as the prep team enter the room and surround my sister.

Venia, Flavius and Octavia get started straight away with Katniss's prep, sending her to shower while they lay out a variety of makeup and hair products, styling tools and other things that are supposedly necessary to 'remake' her.

Octavia sees me staring, and smiles.

"Pretty, isn't it?" she sighs. "All the colours..." She drops her voice suddenly. "I'm not technically supposed to do this, but while we wait for Katniss, maybe we could prep you a little too? You'll be on camera with your sister." She giggles, and I nod, unsure of what I'm letting myself in for. But Katniss loves her team, and they make her look beautiful, so maybe they can do the same to me...

Twenty minutes later, I'm looking with disbelief at my reflection in the mirror. Octavia's lightning fingers have transformed me from a little girl from Twelve into someone else. Someone with shiny hair and long eyelashes. My eyes seem brighter, the colour accentuated by silver glitter, and there's more glitter and some pink powder on my pale cheeks. She's painted my nails too, the pink of an evening sunset tipped with white.

"Thank you, Octavia," I whisper. She's turned me into someone I'm not. But I like this new Prim. She stands taller, smiles a little wider, and looks older. She's more confident, and she's not afraid. I wish I could be her more often.

"You're welcome, Prim." Octavia smiles at me, and turns to join Venia and Flavius in prepping Katniss.

They do a lot more to her, of course. Flavius cuts her hair, Octavia glues fake nails to her bitten stumps, Venia does something to shape her eyebrows before applying her makeup in shades of gold and red.

It takes a couple of hours to do. But when she's done, she's perfect. She reminds me of the old Katniss, the strong one I knew before the arena stole her away.

"You look pretty," I tell her.

"So do you." She smiles.

Then the door opens once more, and standing there is a familiar face. I've only seen him on a screen before, but I know his name.

Cinna. Katniss's stylist in the Games.


End file.
